…except it isn’t.  Today is the day forever seared into the very depths of my soul. The day I last held my baby girl as she gasped for breath in my arms. She had fought her battle; one that was not to be won here on earth. In her ridiculously short life, my daughter had already experienced more pain and suffering than most experience in a lifetime….and so have I. I don’t think she was in pain in those final moments (that was my second greatest wish anyway) but she sure did hang on. I told her repeatedly that it was ok to go. That I would see her again in Heaven and that Daddy and I would be alright. But for whatever reason, “it” took some time. I’ll spare you the final details (although I know there are a few of you who were by my side and will remember the details all too well).

THE DAY. TODAY. It’s been 8 years. Wait! What? That can’t be right. But it is. It’s been 8 years. Seems like a lifetime ago, but feels like yesterday. Some would say that you should be “over it” by now. (No really. “They” say it.) But I’m here to tell you that the death of your child is something that you will never, ever “get over”. Understand it? Not in this lifetime. Accept it? I guess. Wait, do I have another choice? No? Are you sure? Ok. Then, I have to accept it and move on. That’s the (please pardon my French here) bitch right there. The “moving on”. You do because you have to…not because you want to. And then, moment by moment, you just keep moving further and further from THE DAY. But your heart and soul is still stuck. Stuck in that moment in time when your baby took their final breath. And nothing. is. ever. the same again.

BUT…THE DAY. TODAY is the day that my brilliant, handsome 14 year old son will walk on his own two healthy legs into an amazing school where he is privileged to receive an excellent education. TODAY is the day that my sweet, gregarious 12 year old will laugh with his friends in one of the greatest countries on Earth. TODAY is the day that my sassy, adorable 6 year old will do cartwheels all the way home from Kindergarten. It may be THE DAY and as much as that hurts, TODAY still offers so many wonderful blessings and for that…TODAY, I can only be grateful.

I love you forever Sweet Pea!